


The Man of His Dreams

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Both are 17, M/M, Prostitute Eggsy, Same Age Hartwin, accidental pimp harry, actual pimp dean, no non/dub con scenes depicted, risky business au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: Harry is just a regular teenager struggling with a job, an enigmatic best friend, and a libido that won't shut the hell up. Little does he know, this combination will end up pushing him into a position he never could have expected: pimp to a pair of prostitutes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The original ideas for this belong to the director/writer of Risky Business: Paul Brickman. Thank you, kind sir, for giving us that nigh unforgettable underwear dance sequence. May it live on forever.
> 
> Special thanks to sarkany for beta'ing and helping me wrap this all up!

The shower is running. Harry hears it the moment he steps through the door, his curly hair windswept and chest heaving from the bike ride home. He pauses halfway into the house, brow furrowing. 

 

Normally, of course, a shower wouldn’t be a reason to pause. It is, however, strange when there isn’t supposed to be anyone home. 

 

Harry eases the door shut quietly, sneaking towards the stairs. He swallows down the nervousness in his throat as he ascends, the sound of the running water growing louder. He wants to call out ‘hello’ or ‘who’s there,’ but he’s seen enough horror movies to know how that will end. 

 

Somehow, though, this doesn’t feel quite like a horror movie. Harry can’t explain it but there’s a warm reassurance in the air, an almost syrupy feeling, making him take his time.

 

Harry pauses at the bathroom door, letting out a slow breath before pushing it open. He cautiously peeks inside. 

 

A figure stands behind the glass door, hands running through their hair as they tip their head back underneath the spray. 

 

“Hello?” Harry finally does ask, his earlier apprehension overwhelmed by newfound curiosity. 

 

The figure hardly seems to notice he’s there. They only reach out and slowly slide open the glass door, giving him a better look. 

 

A lump forms in Harry’s throat and he’s half-convinced the other man can hear his heart pounding against his ribcage.

 

For it is a man, or a boy, really, appropriating his shower. He doesn’t look much older than Harry’s own tender age of 17 but he exudes the confidence of someone far more mature. The way he looks… well, Harry is having trouble coming up with a better description than ‘sex on legs.’

 

It seems like an eternity before the boy looks at Harry, head rolling back sensually, eyes sliding over him. “Could you get my back?” he asks. 

 

Harry drifts forward unthinkingly, ready to do anything for another glimpse of those sea-green eyes. He doesn’t think about the fact that he’s still fully clothed nor does he notice the abundance of steam billowing around him. 

 

It grows thicker and thicker in a cloud as he walks forward. Eventually he can’t even see Eggsy’s outline anymore, just keeps walking forward aimlessly. His vision whites out and he opens his mouth to cry out- 

 

His alarm cuts into his dream, jerking Harry abruptly into the real world. He bolts up in bed, hand shooting out automatically to slam the snooze button, the last vestiges of his dream blowing away like steam. Groaning, he hauls himself into a sitting position, head falling back against the headboard with a soft thump. His hair hangs around his face in disarray and he feels strangely unsatisfied, mouth setting into a disappointed frown. 

 

No point trying to go back to sleep to try and chase the unknown figure down. Harry will dream about him again, he’s sure of it. 

 

-

“And you’re sure it’s the same person?” Merlin asks, keeping his voice low as they walk briskly along the pavement. 

 

Harry sighs, rolling his eyes skyward. “Of course I’m sure. He’s been traipsing through my head for a month, I’ve practically got his face memorized by now.” 

 

Merlin falls quiet for a moment, puzzling that over. “You know, they say you can only dream of faces you’ve seen. Where do you think you’ve seen this bloke?” 

 

Scoffing, Harry swings around to look at Merlin as he walks, the deserted streets allowing him to go on backwards. “Sometimes, Merlin, there are things you just can’t explain,” he quips, turning to face front again. 

 

Merlin screws up his face dubiously but doesn’t comment any further until they reach the small tailor shop tucked in snugly between two other businesses that are, like everyone else, sleeping in that Saturday morning. “I can’t believe you of all people got a job that makes you work at this unholy hour,” Merlin mutters, glaring up at the edifice. “And I certainly can’t believe you dragged me along with you.”  

 

Harry grins, rooting around in his bag for the key he knows he threw in there the night before. “You wouldn’t be resting anyways, you never do. At least I’m helping you be productive.” His search turns more frantic as he digs under sheaves of paper and packets of pencils without success. 

 

Merlin watches passively as Harry’s shuffling grows more and more aggressive, finally sighing and brushing past him, tugging his own key out of his pocket. 

 

Gaping, Harry watches him unlock the door and hold it open for him. “Where the hell did you get that?” 

 

“What, this?” Merlin asks, brandishing the key innocently. “I had a copy of yours made.” He makes to step into the shop but pauses in the doorway, unable to resist a parting shot. “You didn’t think I’d trust  _ you  _ to be the responsible one, did you?” With that, he disappears into the darkened interior, leaving Harry standing on the doorstep with his belongings mussed and his ego bruised. 

 

“Prick,” Harry mutters, but he follows soon after. 

 

-

The end of Harry’s pencil disappears into his mouth again. He absentmindedly gnaws on the eraser, teeth leaving impressions in the soft wood. Eventually the rubber taste floods his mouth and he blinks out of his reverie, pulling the pencil out and looking at it like it had personally offended him. 

 

A stack of binders slams down on the wood next to Harry, and he jumps, glaring at Merlin, whose hands are still resting on top of the binders. 

 

Merlin just smirks, pushing them towards Harry. “Daydreaming about your sex toy again?” 

 

Harry flushes crimson, hurriedly snatching up the paper lying in front of him. 

 

Of course, that was the exact wrong move to pull with a snoop like Merlin around. Instantly, his eyes sharpen and he reaches for it. “What’s that you have there?” he asks even as Harry leans away from him, paper plastered to his chest. 

 

“Nothing. Shut up. He’s not my,” a furtive glance around to ensure there are no customers nearby, but he lowers his voice anyways, “sex toy. And, no, for your information, I was thinking about something  _ completely _ different.”  

 

Merlin raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh, yes? Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I see this.” He closes his fingers around the edges of Harry’s paper, poking at Harry with the eraser end of his abandoned pencil. 

 

Instinctively, Harry puts his hand up to block his face, unwittingly relinquishing his paper to Merlin. “Shit, give that back,” he says, lunging forwards. 

 

Merlin just as quickly turns away, putting the desk between them and ignoring the few stares customers throw their way at the small scuffle. “I’ll give them back when I’m done,” he says, much more intent on what he’s looking at than what he’s saying. 

 

Messy sketches fill the page, all of them depicting the same boy. In some of them he’s draped lazily on a chair or the floor, in others he’s more lively, animated. The one connecting thread is his eyes. They’re always intense, always the focus, and Merlin whistles lowly. 

 

He offers the paper back to Harry with an unassuming, “these aren’t half bad,” before sauntering off to attend to a lost-looking patron without giving Harry a chance to reply.

 

Harry bites his lip, wishing his blush would die down already. He folds the paper in half and half again before stowing it in his pocket and reclaiming his seat. The binders await. Reluctantly, he flips one open and gets back to work. 

 

-

“I don’t know why I’m even friends with you,” Harry grumbles, hands shoved deep in his pockets, one hand curled around his traitorous sketches. 

 

Merlin nudges him playfully, nodding across the street to a seedy looking pub. “Because I buy you drinks when I’ve upset you?”

 

It doesn’t take long for Harry to mull that one over. “Compelling,” he says, starting for the pub. 

 

The place isn’t too crowded but it still retains a cozy atmosphere almost reminiscent of Harry’s dream. He takes to the place immediately, relaxing a little as he makes his way over to the counter and orders two pints. 

 

Merlin grabs them a booth while Harry waits, shooting a smile and wink to a young woman at a nearby table. 

 

She rolls her eyes and turns back to her friend without giving him a second glance but Merlin only shrugs. 

 

A moment later Harry slides in across from him, handing over a pint. 

 

They sit in companionable silence for a while, listening to the general buzz of conversation in the pub, the accentuating background music playing too quietly to really make out the lyrics. This isn’t an unfamiliar ritual. They’ve been friends since primary and drinking together for about as long, much to the disapproval of their parents. 

 

Harry eventually notices that Merlin is staring at him, has been for the past half a minute. He’s about to ask if he’s got something on his face when the other man breaks the silence. 

 

“You know what you need to get?”

 

“A haircut?” Harry guesses, making a valiant attempt to get a glimpse of the curly mop atop his head. 

 

“Laid,” Merlin says bluntly. 

 

Harry chokes on his beer. After a few hacking coughs and a couple more deep breaths, he finally manages to gasp out, “ _ What? _ ” 

 

Merlin peers at Harry over the rim of his own glass. “You know why you’re having such strange dreams, don’t you?” he asks. When he receives only a mute nod he says matter-of-factly, “It’s because you’re sexually repressed.” 

 

Harry goes red to his hairline and it suddenly feels like every pair of eyes in the pub are on him. “Could we stop talking about this? Like, right now?” he hisses, glaring at Merlin. 

 

Shrugging, Merlin takes a sip of his beer. “Fine. But you know this weekend would be perfect for it.”

 

The worst part is, Merlin’s right. This weekend will be the first time Harry’s had the house to himself for more than a few hours at a time in… well, ever, now that he thinks about it. What Merlin’s probably not right about is the sexual repression. Harry’s gone 17 years without doing anything more than think about sex and he’s been just fine. 

 

Just fine. 

 

-

The door lock clicks shut behind his parents’ retreating backs, and the pants are off. Harry waits until their car is completely out of the driveway before leaving his fingerprints all over the stereo he’s been explicitly ordered not to touch. He cranks up the rock ballad until he can practically see the ceiling pulsing and goes sliding through the hallways in tube socks pulled all the way up. 

 

A broom doubles as both a dance partner and a microphone and he whisks it into the living room, belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. The ballad winds down and he brings the broom into a dip, planting a smacking kiss on the tip of it. 

 

Harry comes to the conclusion that Merlin was talking absolute bollocks. 

 

Then there’s a knock at the door. 

 

Harry glances from the broom he’s still holding in a dip to the pantsless state of his legs and has a momentary burst of panic. “Give me a moment!” he shouts. Hoping whoever-it-was heard him through the wood he dashes about, setting things in order. 

 

When he’s got the broom back in the corner, the stereo turned off, and actual clothes on again, Harry opens the door, expecting Merlin or maybe even James or his parents, come back to retrieve something he’s forgotten. What he’s  _ not _ expecting is the man of his dreams. Not in the metaphorical sense, either. He finds himself staring down the actual man that’s taken center stage in his nocturnal adventures for the past month. Harry’s jaw hits the floor. 

 

One eyebrow arches over one of those stunning, perfectly intimidating, blue-green eyes and Harry goes weak in the knees. He clings to the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping him upright and tries to remember how to speak. “Um… who… why… how did you…” He trails off in wide-eyed wonder, staring blatantly. 

 

The boy leans forward expectantly. When it becomes clear that nothing more is going to be forthcoming, he grins. “You’re missin’ a couple of questions there, bruv. Didn’t quite fit in the what and where.” He pauses to let Harry get a word in but he just stares at him some more so he shrugs one shoulder and offers out a hand. “As for the who, my name’s Eggsy. You’re Merlin, yeah?” 

 

The name jolts Harry back to himself and he manages to shake his head and find his tongue. “No, I… I’m not Merlin,” he says.

 

Eggsy’s brow furrows and he drops his hand when Harry doesn’t take it. “Really? The bloke who called me said he was Merlin and gave me this address. Is he somewhere in there, then?” He cranes up to try and see over Harry’s shoulder. 

 

Harry shakes his head and Eggsy drops flat-footed. “No, it’s just me here. I’m sorry. I think there’s been a terrible mistake.” He says the last through gritted teeth, grip on the door handle turning vicious instead of desperate. No way this was a mistake. Merlin’s going to pay for this one. Somehow. Eventually. Harry will figure that out later. 

 

Eggsy grimaces and glances over his shoulder. “Well, my cab’s gone already, so would you mind if I stepped in to call another one?” 

 

“Of course!” Harry hurries to step aside, holding the door open for him. 

 

Giving him a grateful grin, Eggsy slips past him and digs his mobile out of his pocket. He leans against the counter and starts dialing. 

 

Harry stares at him blatantly. Once he realizes he’s doing so, he snaps his mouth shut and desperately casts about for something else to look at. He settles on the ceiling, glancing down a second later to find Eggsy with the phone pressed to his ear, staring at nothing. 

 

“Hey. I need a cab,” Eggsy says, looking up at Harry through his lashes. He rattles off the address and then pauses to listen, mouth tightening in a frown. “What? But I just took one here- Yeah… yeah… alright. Whatever. Shouldn’t have tipped so fuckin’ much.” He snaps the phone closed and scowls at the floor. 

 

Eggsy looks irritated enough that Harry almost doesn’t say anything, but curiosity gets the better of him. “Something wrong?” he asks. 

 

Eggsy shrugs one shoulder apologetically. “They said they couldn’t have someone out here for about half an hour. Some accident or somethin’. Sorry about that, bruv.” 

 

Harry waves it off. “It’s no trouble. Whenever it happens to get here.” He moves to lean on the opposite counter, folding his arms over his chest and staring at the floor. 

 

An awkward silence settles over the pair of them after a bit. Harry itches to say something, anything, but all he can think about is what Merlin might have told Eggsy. 

 

Once he can’t stand it even a second longer, Harry clears his throat and looks up. “So what is it that you do, exactly?” he asks. 

 

Eggsy quirks one eyebrow up and tilts his head down, indicating himself. “Pretty sure you can figure that out on your own, bruv.”    

 

Instantly Harry feels foolish. He sweeps his eyes over the clinging, white T-shirt and dark, form-fitting jeans Eggsy’s dressed in and colors to the tips of his ears. He clears his throat, nods, and rubs at the back of his neck. 

 

Oddly enough, that seems to put Eggsy more at ease. He grins loosely and rests his arm on the counter, propping his chin in his hand. “So if you aren’t Merlin, who are you, anyways?” he asks. 

 

“Oh. Yes, right, I never introduced myself, terribly sorry,” Harry babbles, pushing himself off the counter and extending his hand. “My name is Harry Hart. Merlin is my,” he pauses before continuing, “friend.”  

 

Eggsy’s grin grows a little wider. “An’ tell me, Harry. Why would Merlin give me your address instead of his own?” His head tilts slightly to the side, eyebrows raising. 

 

Harry clears his throat and drops his hand. “A misguided attempt at helping me, I think,” he mutters, unable to look Eggsy in the eye. 

 

Eggsy glances over at him knowingly but wisely drops the subject, letting them fall back into silence for a moment. It doesn’t take long before he clears his throat, waiting till Harry looks up at him before speaking. “You know, I wasn’t really plannin’ on havin’ to pay for a second cab trip. Not sure I have enough in my wallet.” 

 

“Oh! Right. I suppose I could cover that,” Harry mutters, reaching for his wallet. Merlin owes him big-time. He pulls out a few crumpled bills and hands them over. 

 

Eggsy steps a bit closer to take them, fingers brushing Harry’s as he does. “Thanks, bruv,” he says, slipping the money in his back pocket. “And now that you’ve paid me anyways…” He leans in, eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry’s lips. 

 

Almost automatically, Harry leans away, heart beating faster in his chest. “What are you doing?”

 

“Relax,” Eggsy says quietly, one corner of his lips quirking into a smile. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He leans in again and this time Harry doesn’t retreat, just lets his eyes close. 

 

Eggsy’s lips meet his in a soft, almost tentative, embrace. They stay like that for a while, pressed close together in Harry’s kitchen, warmth blossoming under Eggsy’s palm and it’s… kind of nice. Not how Harry pictured his evening going, but still. Nice.

 

Then Eggsy's tongue is tracing over his lips, not insistent, just there, and Harry parts his own to let him in. 

 

-

“I dreamt about you,” Harry murmurs a while later, glancing down at Eggsy. 

 

Eggsy traces lazy fingers across Harry’s bare chest, humming. “Lots of men dream about me.” 

 

Harry frowns, angling his chin down so he can see Eggsy better. “No, I mean… I actually dreamt about you. You, specifically.”

 

Eggsy meets his gaze steadily until Harry goes quiet again. “I’m sure you did,” he says, leaning forward to press a brief kiss to his lips.

-

When Harry wakes the next morning, Eggsy is gone. He hauls himself into a sitting position and rakes a hand through his hair, feeling better than he has a long time. Maybe Merlin was right. Maybe he  _ had  _ been sexually repressed. 

 

One way or the other, he should be getting out of bed. He squirms into a T-shirt without bothering with anything else, padding downstairs. His mouth splits open in a wide yawn as he moves past the sitting room to the kitchen. 

 

Something, some sixth sense, registers that all is not as it is supposed to be. Harry comes to a stop in the middle of the kitchen, narrowed eyes sweeping over the room. When he doesn’t see anything, he shrugs and reaches up for a bowl. Halfway through the motion he freezes, mouth going dry. No. It couldn’t be. 

 

Heart in his mouth, Harry whirls around and runs into the sitting room. To his horror he finds he isn’t imagining things after all. His mother’s prized Faberge egg--the egg that had earned him more of a lecture than both the car and the stereo--is missing. 

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, feeling his knees go weak. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh  _ fuck.” _

 

A minute later, Harry is bouncing on the balls of his feet, phone clutched to his ear, silently begging Merlin to pick up. As soon as he hears a sleepy ‘hello?’ on the other end, he nearly sobs. “Merlin?”

 

“Harry?” Merlin grumbles. “Do you know what time it is?”

 

Harry takes a look at the clock and rolls his eyes. “It’s almost 10:30. This is a perfectly acceptable time to call,” he says harshly. 

 

The only response he gets is a groan. 

 

“That prostitute you hired, the one that showed up at my house last night?” Harry starts and he can practically feel Merlin’s attention flare to life through the phone. 

 

“Did you shag him?” Merlin asks, all traces of sleep gone. 

 

Harry’s grip tightens around the phone. “Yes, I shagged him,” he says through gritted teeth. “And then he stole my mother’s bloody egg.” 

 

Dead silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Merlin speaks up again. “He what?” 

 

“ _ Stole _ my mother’s egg, Merlin.” Harry is practically hissing at this point, but he thinks he’s entitled to a little panic. His mother is going to kill him if she finds out about this, after all. 

 

Merlin clears his throat. “So what are you going to do about that, then?” 

 

Harry sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. He’s got to get it back, that much is certain. “ _ We _ are going to find out where he is and get my mother’s Faberge egg back, that’s what we’re going to do about it,” he says. 

 

For a long minute there’s silence and Harry wonders if Merlin’s just hung up on him. Just as he’s about to ask if he’s still there, he hears a staticy sigh. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.” 

-

Harry tugs at the tie he’s not used to wearing. He forces himself to sit still except for his eyes. They flit around the room, hoping to find Eggsy, but he doesn’t appear. “What makes you think he’ll even be here?” he asks Merlin. 

 

Merlin, looking irritatingly calm, shrugs one shoulder. “I called the number I called last night and when I asked for Eggsy they said I might find him here. Don’t you find it a bit ironic?” 

 

“Find  _ what  _ a bit ironic?” Harry huffs. He’s beginning to regret ever dragging him into this, but Lord knew he hadn’t had any idea how to get ahold of Eggsy.

 

“A boy named Eggsy stole your egg,” Merlin explains. 

 

Harry blinks. “What the  _ fuck _ -”

 

“Oh, look, could that be him?” Merlin casually cuts him off, pointing to the entrance of the grand hotel. 

 

Sure enough, Eggsy is there, dressed up in what looks to be a cheap suit. His shoulders are hunched, there’s a pout on his lips, and he’s steadfastly ignoring the older man at his side even though they’re clearly together. 

 

Harry remembers those lips, remembers how they felt on his skin, his tongue his- He shakes his head to cut off that line of thought. The fact remains that he’s stolen Harry’s egg. Harry moves to stand up, not sure of what he’s going to say, but there’s no need. 

 

Eggsy looks up at that moment, eyes unerringly finding him. He doesn’t make any sign of acknowledgement, just stares at him. 

 

Harry lifts a hand in something like a wave. 

 

A moment later Eggsy is gone, moving off with the other man and Harry lets his hand drop. It isn’t until the pair disappears from view that Harry realizes he’s missed what little chance he had. 

 

“What was that?” Merlin asks incredulously. 

 

“Well, I didn’t see  _ you _ doing anything either,” Harry mutters, getting to his feet with a heavy sigh. What is he going to tell his mother? 

 

They make it to Harry’s car when a voice stops them in their tracks. 

 

“Harry? Harry!” 

 

It’s unmistakably Eggsy and Harry’s heart starts pounding in his chest. He schools his face into a blank mask before turning to face Eggsy, glancing down at him loftily. 

 

Eggsy comes to a halt a few steps from them, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding to the car. “This yours, bruv?” 

 

“Yes,” Harry responds cautiously. “Do you want to steal it too?” he can’t help but tack on, anger boiling to the surface. 

 

Eggsy just makes a face at him, rolling his eyes. “Look, I came out here to talk, alright? But if you ain’t interested…” 

 

Harry rakes a hand through his hair. “Fine. Talk then.” 

 

“Alright. In the car, yeah?” Eggsy prompts, throwing a quick look over his shoulder. He doesn’t wait for a proper answer before worming past Merlin and sliding into the passenger seat. 

 

Harry exchanges a bemused glance with Merlin before they, too, get into the car. As soon as the door shuts behind him, Harry turns to face Eggsy, arms crossed over his chest. 

 

Eggsy at least has the grace to appear slightly embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the dashboard instead of him. He opens his mouth to speak when the door to the hotel flies open, and a man storms out onto the sidewalk. 

 

Instantly, Eggsy goes on the alert, sinking down into the seat as if he’s trying to make himself invisible. “Shit,” he breathes. 

 

“What?” Harry asks, squinting at the newcomer. He’s dressed in the same cheap outfit as Eggsy and walks as if he’s tipsy. “What’s going on?” 

 

The man seems to spot them then, gaze zeroing in on Eggsy’s withering form. “Eggsy!” he roars, lumbering towards the vehicle. “Get the fuck out of that car!” He slams into the passenger side door, knocking at the window. “Get out here, Eggsy, or I’ll fuckin’ drag you out,” he screams. 

 

“Now might be a good time to start driving,” Merlin says, leaning forward in his seat. 

 

“Now is  _ definitely _ a good time to start driving,” Eggsy snaps, shoulders hunched nearly up to his ears. 

 

“I said get the fuck out of that fuckin’ car!” the man yells again, throwing back his coat to reveal a small pistol. He tugs it out of the inside pocket, pressing it up against the window and glaring daggers at Eggsy.  

 

“Fucking  _ drive _ , Harry, for Christ’s sake!” Merlin yells and that snaps him into action. 

 

Before Harry lets himself think too much he slams his foot down on the gas, the car peeling away from the curb. He can hear Dean yelling after them but it soon gets lost in the sound of traffic and he realizes he’s clutching the wheel so hard his knuckles have turned white. His eyes slide to the figure in his passenger seat. 

 

Eggsy’s burning gaze is fixed straight ahead, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

 

It takes a moment for Harry to pluck up the courage to ask, “Who was that?” 

 

“Dean,” Eggsy bites out, and it’s clear he’d rather not talk about it. 

 

But fuck that. Harry’s speeding along the road after having a gun practically waved in his face, a sulking prostitute in his passenger seat and he’s getting some answers, damn it. He slams on the brakes, bringing the car to a squealing halt in the middle of the road. Instantly a chorus of horns sounds behind them, but Harry just tightens his grip on the wheel. 

 

Both Merlin and Eggsy turn to look at him, amazement stamped on Merlin’s face, confusion on Eggsy’s. 

 

“What are you stoppin’ for?” Eggsy asks. 

 

Harry sets his jaw stubbornly. “I am not moving this car an inch until you tell me who the hell that was and what you did with my mother’s goddamn egg.” 

 

Anger blazes in Eggsy’s eyes and he presses his lips shut, turning to glare out the window silently. 

 

Merlin’s head swivels between them, mouth slightly agape. He’s about to tell them both to stop acting like children when the sound of screeching tires reaches their ears. 

 

Simultaneously, all three of them turn to look out the back window. 

 

A car is ripping through traffic, Dean hunched over the wheel and shrieking at the windshield, gun still clutched tightly in one hand as he drives. He weaves in and out of the halted traffic, earning himself honks and curses all over the place, not that he pays them any attention. 

 

“Harry…” Merlin says, tapping nervously on the side of his seat. “Maybe now’s not the time to have this stalemate, yeah?” 

 

Harry grits his teeth. Privately he thinks that now is the  _ perfect _ time for this stalemate. 

 

Eggsy whips back and forth, by turns glaring at Harry and panicking over Dean’s gain. “Fine, fine. That’s Dean, he’s my manager, and he ain’t got that gun for no reason, so will you fuckin’ get on with it already?” he pleads all in a rush. 

 

But Harry only shakes his head stubbornly. He’s as aware as any of them just how close Dean is getting, the blare of car horns nearly beating out the blood thudding in his ears. “What about the egg?” 

 

“Alright, yeah, I took it, but I can only help you get it back if I don’t wind up dead first!” Eggsy says, wide eyes fixed on Dean’s car. 

 

That’s all the encouragement Harry needs. He slams the gas pedal to the floor, and they’re off like a shot. 

 

Merlin falls back against his seat, blood draining from his face, his fingers digging into the luxurious leather. 

 

“Is this really happening?” Harry wonders aloud, swerving wildly around a car that honks angrily at him. “Am I really helping you outrun your pimp?” 

 

Eggsy loosens up a little, snorting. “If you want your precious egg back then, yeah,” he says, a bit of a smile tugging at his lips. “You are.” 

 

Harry grits his teeth, and whips the car around a corner, throwing everybody up against the side of the car. 

 

“If Dean doesn’t catch up with us, Harry, I’m going to kill you myself,” Merlin says, rubbing his shoulder. 

 

Dean’s gaining on them steadily, eating up the road between them bit by bit. 

 

Heart beating in his throat, Harry looks desperately for a way to lose him. Finally, he spots one. An alleyway, barely big enough for his car to fit through, surely too large for Dean’s. “Hold onto something,” he calls before jerking the wheel savagely to the right. 

 

Merlin yelps as he’s thrown back into the door, his shoulder taking the brunt of it again. 

 

The car fits - barely. Sparks trail from the mirrors as they catch the walls and Harry’s grip turns white-knuckled. Still, it’s rewarding to hear the screech of tires behind them followed by a tremendous crunch. 

 

Eggsy crows victoriously as they shoot out of the alley, back onto the main streets. He grins openly, nestling back into the seat. 

 

Harry doesn’t stop for a few more blocks, not even sure exactly where they are. He can feel his heart beating in his throat and he’s pretty sure his hands are shaking, but he does his best to appear unruffled, cutting the ignition. 

 

“Nice drivin’,” Eggsy says, turning his blinding grin on him. 

 

“Oh, fuck the both of you,” Merlin groans. 

-

Eggsy ends up staying the night for a second time. He comes downstairs dressed only in a pair of Harry’s sweatpants even though Harry had definitely not given him permission to wear them. They’re an odd fit, tight around the waist and ending bunched around the ankles, but Eggsy doesn’t seem to be complaining. 

 

“Mornin’,” Eggsy says brightly, rooting around in the kitchen until he comes up with a bowl and some cereal. 

 

Harry pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Morning,” he finally mutters in reply. He waits until Eggsy has seated himself at the table before leaning forward to talk to him. “You’re leaving Dean, then?” 

 

Eggsy makes a face at his breakfast, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah,” he says shortly. 

 

“Why?” Harry asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t know much about the inner workings of Eggsy’s line of duty. 

 

“He’s a piece of shit,” Eggsy snaps, glaring up at Harry. “An’ I’d rather not talk about it.” 

 

Surprised at the vehemence of his outburst, Harry relents. He falls back to eating in silence. 

 

Eventually, however, Eggsy breaks it. “Sorry,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… he’s got me in kind of a tough spot, you know? I owe him for some things. Makes him think he owns me.” His grip tightens around his spoon, knuckles turning white. “No one owns me.” 

 

Harry clears his throat a bit awkwardly, pushing back from the table and grabbing his dishes. “Well, it’s been… fun,” he says cautiously. “But I should be getting to work. So you need to leave.”

 

Right on cue, there’s a knock on the door. Merlin is annoyingly punctual. 

 

Eggsy’s face falls. “You mean I can’t stay?” he asks. 

 

“Of course you can’t,” Harry snaps, not meaning to sound quite as waspish as he does. “The last time you were here you stole my mother’s egg.” 

 

Glancing away, Eggsy chews at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry about that,” he tells the tablecloth. 

 

Harry rakes a hand through his hair just as there’s another knock. “Give me a second.” He hurries to the door, throwing it open right as Merlin raises his hand to knock again. 

 

“We’re going to be late,” Merlin points out, arching one eyebrow. 

 

“I just need one more minute,” Harry says, but something must show on his face because Merlin narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

 

“Is he still here?” Merlin asks, voice edged with disbelief. 

 

Harry nods once, lips pressed into a tight line. 

 

For a second, Merlin doesn’t do anything. Then, before Harry has a chance to say anything, Merlin is pushing past him, striding into the dining room. He marches over towards Eggsy, pointing straight back to the door. “Get out.” 

 

Eggsy’s eyebrows shoot up and he leans back in the chair to look around Merlin at Harry. “You settin’ your guard dog on me?” 

 

Harry’s mouth opens uselessly. He scrambles to come up with something to say but nothing comes out. 

 

Seeming much more relaxed now that he’s not only dealing with Harry, Eggsy stretches before getting out of the chair. He pats Merlin’s chest on his way through to the kitchen, bowl in hand. “Relax. I’ll be out of here by the time Harry gets home. I just have to make a few calls, that’s all, figure out how to get my stuff away from Dean and all that. That’ll be alright, won’t it?” He smiles innocently at Harry. 

 

Merlin, on the other hand, turns to glare at him. 

 

Faced with Eggsy’s faux innocence on one hand and Merlin’s very real anger on the other, Harry raises his hands, palms up in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he acquiesces. “A few calls. But after that you leave, and if I find anything out of place, I’m calling the police,” he promises. 

 

Eggsy launches himself across the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. He presses a quick kiss to his cheek before releasing him with a cheeky wink. “Thanks, bruv.” 

 

Merlin spends the entire walk to Kingsman Tailors glaring at Harry. 

-

The day seems to crawl by. Harry can’t stop thinking about Eggsy, the filthy things he’d whispered in Harry’s ear, the way his lips felt on every part of him, that infuriatingly smug smirk that had flitted across his face when Harry had said he could stay… Groaning, Harry buries his head in his arms. 

-

Finally, the day does end. Harry is out like a shot, Merlin not far after him. For once, they don’t walk home, opting instead for a cab. Harry doesn’t consider it a good sign when he spots a strange car in his doorway. 

 

Dry-mouthed and fearing the worst, Harry makes his way to the door, reaching for his keys. 

 

As it turns out, he doesn’t need them. The door opens just as Harry steps onto the porch and he freezes. It takes his brain a second to catch up with what he’s seeing and his brow furrows in confusion. “Charlie?” he asks after a brief, awkward period of just staring at the other boy. 

 

Charlie smirks. “Hello, Harry.”

 

“What were you doing in my house?” Harry asks, genuinely baffled. He and Charlie could barely be counted as acquaintances. He hadn’t even known Charlie knew where he lived. A horrible suspicion dawns on him and he hears ice in his own voice as he snaps, “What exactly did you do with Eggsy?” 

 

Charlie laughs, leaning one shoulder against the doorway. “Eggsy? All I did was shake his hand,” he says lightly. 

 

Harry grits his teeth and takes a step forward, unsure what he’s planning on doing. 

 

But Charlie raises his hands in surrender. “I swear, I didn’t do anything to or with him,” he says, and Harry has to admit that he seems pretty sincere. 

 

Harry sags, stepping to one side to let Charlie off the porch. 

 

Charlie jumps down, brushes past Merlin, and gets halfway down the drive before turning and calling back, “You should have asked what I did with Jamal!” Then he’s gone, slipping into his car and speeding off with a triumphant grin pasted to his face. 

 

“Jamal?” Merlin repeats, looking at Harry. 

 

Harry just shrugs. The name is completely unfamiliar to him. 

 

Jamal makes an appearance right at that moment, popping out of the door and giving Harry a beaming smile. “Hey, cuz. I like your friend.” 

 

Harry’s jaw drops open with a soft pop. “Who… who are you?” he asks. “And how did you get in my house?” 

 

“I’m a friend of Eggsy’s,” Jamal says, winking in a way that leaves Harry with no doubt as to what kind of friend he is. 

 

Gritting his teeth, Harry shoves past Jamal, stalking into his house. “Eggsy!” he calls. 

 

Almost lazily, Eggsy drifts into the main hallway. “No need to shout, Harry, I’m right here,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk. 

 

“This,” Harry says, sweeping his hand around to indicate Jamal as well as Eggsy, “is not getting out.” 

 

Eggsy’s smirk falls a bit and he shrugs. “Well, no, but… look, I ain’t got no place to go and neither does my mate. If we could just-” 

 

The harsh squealing of tires cuts him off and Harry’s heart sinks. Not another unexpected visitor. He turns to go outside, ready to give whoever it is a stern talking to, but he freezes in his tracks. He knows that car. Worse, he knows its owner. Or at least, Eggsy does. 

 

Dean unfolds himself from the car just as Eggsy and Jamal pop their heads out to see what’s going on. Almost instantly, they withdraw, disappearing back into the house with Merlin. 

 

Harry’s mouth goes dry and he unconsciously takes a step backwards. Summoning what little courage he has--which really is very little--he squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. “What are you doing here?” He means it to come out menacing, but he sounds weak and childish even to his own ears. 

 

Dean chuckles harshly, leaning against the frame of his car. “You have somethin’ of mine,” he sneers, looking towards the house. “I’ve come to get it back, that’s all.” 

 

“How about you fuck off?” yells a voice from above them. 

 

Harry and Dean turn as one to find Eggsy’s head stuck out the window, Jamal at his shoulder. 

 

“We don’t work for you anymore,” Jamal chimes in. 

 

Eggsy glances back at him and smirks. “That’s right,” he agrees. “We work for Harry now.” 

 

Dean’s head swivels to look at Harry, blazing eyes locking on him. “Is that right?” he asks, voice low and menacing. 

 

Harry’s mouth turns into a desert and he has to fight the urge to cross his arms over his chest. Instead, he holds his ground, praying Dean won’t try anything in broad daylight. 

 

Tension crackles in the air between them, but Dean doesn’t say anything so Harry doesn’t either. Finally,  _ finally _ , Dean moves, pushing off the car and opening the driver’s door. “If they ain’t gonna make me money anymore” he says, eyes never leaving Eggsy, “then you’re gonna do it for me. You pay me what they’re worth within 48 hours, and I’ll let you have ‘em, how’s that?” 

 

His leering smile puts Harry ill at ease. “How much would that be?” he asks. 

 

Dean pauses in consideration, one finger tapping his chin as if he’s deep in thought. “Let’s say £500 apiece. Maybe they ain’t even worth that much, but you’re takin’ ‘em off my hands on short notice.” 

 

Harry chews on his lower lip, wondering where the hell he’s possibly going to get £1000. “And if I don’t get the money?” 

 

Dean grins nastily. “Then I’m gonna come back here. And you ain’t gonna like it when I do.” With that threat, he settles himself in the car, glancing over at Eggsy through the window and giving him a short salute before easing into the street and driving off. 

 

As soon as he’s out of sight, Harry turns and makes his way back inside. He locks the door behind him. 

 

Jamal and Eggsy come bounding down the stairs a moment later. Eggsy flings his arms around Harry’s neck. “Thank you,” he breathes. 

 

Jamal reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple crumpled bills, offering them out to Harry. 

 

Harry shakes his head, pushing his hand away. “I didn’t do that for money.” 

 

Jamal just scoffs and offers him the money again. “It weren’t for that, cuz,” he says. “It’s 50%. For the house.” 

 

“The house,” Harry repeats, brow furrowed. 

 

“For fuck’s sake,” Eggsy mutters, dropping his arms and stepping away. “It’s like I told Dean, bruv. We work for you now.” 

 

As if the presence of money has summoned him, Merlin appears at Eggsy’s shoulder. “Brilliant,” he says. 

 

“What?” Harry asks, voice tight. “ _ No _ . Not brilliant. I don’t want anyone working for me.” This last he directs at Eggsy and Jamal, once again attempting to push Jamal’s hand away.

 

Merlin steals his hand over Harry’s shoulder, taking it for him. 

 

Harry makes a half-strangled sound of protest before Merlin’s grip on his shoulder turns firm, guiding him a few steps away from their errant houseguests. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Harry. Think about it. All we have to do is invite a couple more of Eggsy’s people, spread the word that you’re hosting a party, and it’ll be the easiest money you’ve ever made,” Merlin says, voice pitched low. 

 

“Merlin,” Harry says, barely able to believe his ears. “I didn’t even want one of them in my house, let alone inviting more of them!” 

 

Merlin pulls back to gaze at him skeptically. 

 

Harry flushes, unable to look Merlin in the eyes. “Well, alright, Eggsy was okay for a couple nights. But no. No more of them. No party.” 

 

Merlin just blinks at him once, twice, before he turns to Eggsy and Jamal with a huge grin pasted on his face. “So. How many people do you think we can fit in this house?” 

 

Someday, Harry thinks. Someday he’s going to kill Merlin. 

-

Never has Harry felt more uncomfortable. He knows approximately none of the people now milling in and around his house. Periodically Merlin will pop out of the throng to hand him a few more bills, with strict instructions to take them directly to the cash box. He always obeys, slipping into the back room and depositing the money. 

 

Their haul is impressive, even he has to admit that. It would have taken at least a week of work at the tailor shop to make this and they’ve scraped it together in one night. 

 

Harry’s just dropping off the latest batch when he hears movement in the doorway. Looking up, he finds Eggsy watching him, the ghost of a smile playing over his lips. 

 

“Hey,” Eggsy says. 

 

“Um. Hello,” Harry replies, flipping the latches on the lid of the cash box. “I guess I should thank you for making all this happen.” 

 

The smile breaks out fully and Eggsy shakes his head, moving into the room. He kicks the door shut behind him. “Nah, no need for that. I know this weren’t really your idea in the first place.” He drifts a bit further into the room, head tilted critically to one side. “You ain’t havin’ fun, are you?” 

 

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it. “Not… really,” he finally admits. 

 

Eggsy laughs lightly, settling himself on the edge of the desk, arms folded over his chest. “Hey,” he says, curiosity shimmering in his eyes, “I have a question for you.” 

 

Pretending not to be bothered by how close Eggsy is standing to him, Harry turns to face him. “Yes?” he asks, arching one eyebrow. 

 

Eggsy perches on the edge of the desk, swinging one leg casually. “You told me you’d seen me in your dreams before after we fucked for the first time,” he reminds him. 

 

That’s so far from what Harry was expecting that it takes him a second to respond. “Er… yes, I did. What about it?” 

 

“What did that mean?” Eggsy asks, propping his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. 

 

Harry clears his throat to buy himself some time, trying to figure out a way to phrase the truth that won’t make him seem crazy. “I kept having dreams about finding a young man in my house. Nothing ever really  _ happened _ in them, but when I opened the door that first night...” he pauses, looking away awkwardly. “It was like you’d stepped straight out of it into reality.” He side-eyes Eggsy, half expecting him to just walk out of the room. Harry doesn’t think he did a very good job of making himself sound sane. 

 

Instead, Eggsy surprises him. His mouth splits open in a wide grin and he beckons him closer. 

 

Hesitantly Harry obeys his unspoken command, stepping close enough that they’re practically touching. 

 

“Close your eyes,” Eggsy instructs. 

 

Thoroughly confused now, Harry shuts his eyes. 

 

There’s a slight shuffling sound before Eggsy speaks again. “Now hold out your hand.” 

 

Harry does so, palm up and ready, not sure what to expect. Briefly nothing happens. Then Eggsy places something in his palm, something cool, smooth, and vaguely… egg-shaped. 

 

“You can open them now,” Eggsy says. 

 

Sure enough, Harry is holding his mother’s egg, unscathed and just as polished as the day she’d bought it. “Oh, thank Christ,” he breathes, cradling it close to his chest. “Thank you,” he tells Eggsy, feeling lighter than he has since he found out it was missing. “I should get this back where it belongs.” 

 

“Just a sec.” Eggsy hops down off the desk, blocking Harry’s path. He places one hand on Harry’s chest, waiting till Harry meets his gaze to speak again. “I just want you to know that that was the most romantic thing anybody’s ever said to me,” he says, sounding genuine. 

 

Harry blinks, a bit taken aback. “It… it was?” he finally manages to ask. 

 

“Of course,” Eggsy says. Then he smirks. “After all, ain’t every day someone tells you they’re literally the man of their dreams.”

-

They make enough to pay back Dean and then some. 

 

Harry breathes a sigh of relief when he settles his mother’s egg back in place and Eggsy wraps his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. 

 

“Looks nice,” he murmurs. “Really brings the room together.” 

 

Harry rolls his eyes to the ceiling, playfully pushing Eggsy away. “Oh, shut up.” 

 

The day passes by slowly until the sound of wheels pulling into his driveway hits Harry’s ears. Time to deal with Dean. 

 

Harry sucks in a deep breath, closes his fist around the crumpled bills, and marches out to meet him. 

 

“There he is,” Dean says, already out of his car and headed for the front door. “I hope you have my money. I’d hate to have to be a bit more,” he pauses to pat a bulging coat pocket, “persuasive.” 

 

It’s only too easy to imagine what Dean’s got hidden away and Harry swallows down a lump of fear. “I have it,” he says, proud when his voice doesn’t waver. So saying, he holds out the wad of money. 

 

Dean’s brow furrows in a combination of surprise and displeasure and he snatches away the money. He counts it meticulously once, twice, thrice, looking up at the end with a scowl on his face. “Yeah,” he growls, “it’s all here. Better pray that I don’t ever run into your ugly mug again, yeah?” 

 

Harry just nods curtly. 

Dean lingers for a few seconds more before grumblingly returning to his car, slamming the door a little harder than is necessary. He drives off with a squeal of his tires, swerving into the street and blasting on down the street. 

 

All the tension Harry’s been holding in for the past few days comes rolling out of him in one giant wave, and leaving him grinning like a loon. 

  
Eggsy comes running out of the house as soon as Dean’s gone, flinging his arms around Harry’s neck and planting an enthusiastic kiss on his lips. “You’re aces,” he says. “Come on, then,” he continues, linking their fingers together and tugging Harry towards the house. “Let’s go make your dreams come true.” 


End file.
